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Year: 2009

My Word(s)

I will be back.  I promise.  You have my word that you will once again have my words.

Thank you for sticking with me.

{ fin }

Priorities

You could see the under cup of her butt cheeks peaking beneath the edge of her dress-sized t-shirt.  Which would be kind of hot in Daisy-Dukes.  And if it was a dude.  With big thick muscular thighs.

But it wasn’t.  It was a woman.

At first I thought she had a thong or g-string situation going on.  But when she bent over to pick  up a coin some other guy dropped, I got the truth.  It was the briefest of flashes, but it illuminated everything.  She wasn’t wearing panties.

Thankfully the quick dive for change didn’t make her queef.1

What possesses a woman to come into a convenience store at midnight without underpants, I wondered.

It could have been some sort of female exhibitionism.  But women aren’t as apt to show off their Lucille’s as a men are their Johnsons.  When women want to be on display, it’s generally about the tits.

Besides, I took her as a girl completely without guile.

Without guile and with a brand new pair of gleaming white sneakers.

If anything, it was the new kicks she was showing off.

My guess is that she probably had just finished pleasuring her man, rolled off him and wanted to scoot down to the corner for a pack of smokes.  She was so focused on her new shoes, she didn’t even think to slip back into her Hanes for Women.

It’s all about priorities.  And that night panties simply weren’t hers.

Unfortunately for the last few weeks this blog hasn’t been mine.

I haven’t had any new sneakers to take my attention, but life has been pitching me some curve balls and fast balls recently.  I had to attend to them or get beaned in the head. 2

Granny had a major health issue.  I had a minor illness.  And the Attorney and me are sitting on a rough patch right now.

But, the beauty of priorities is that they can always change.  Sometimes for the good, sometimes for the bad.  And, like a pair panties, probably should be changed from time to time.

How else do you clean them up?

So, here I am, pulling my panties up, and ready to start high-kicking again.

Maybe in new sneakers, too.

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  1. Basically a pussy fart. []
  2. Baseball reference, for those who don’t know. Beaned=getting hit with the ball. []

Letters Big and Small

There is love.  And there is Love.

The little “l” kind and the big “L” kind.

We’re all born with the little “l” love.  It’s the basic love we have for fellow man and all creatures.

If we’re lucky1 it eventually leads to big “L” love.  The Love we have for that certain someone.

So, we come into this world as babes, brains empty of knowledge, and hearts filled with love.

Yet there is something about humans that we can’t seem to love enough to allow us to Love each other.

It’s because we learn.

They say that the main thing that separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom is our ability to reason.

Our instincts don’t tell us not to love.  We learn not to.

We learn to Hate.2

This whole marriage equality thing has had me thinking about the origins of Hate.

When does Hate begin within us?

Immediately.  We started learning and picking up clues the moment we were born.

We all have Hate.  Hatred for something.

All. Of. Us.

We may have it under control.  It may even be so dormant that we frighten ourselves when it comes out.  But it’s there.  Because one day we saw it in someone else and learned it.

So, we’re born with the ability to reason, but not necessarily the ability to be reasonable.  Who is the chicken and what is the egg?

Whatever our particular Hate, it’s likely as unreasonable as the Hate that’s trying to keep us from big “L” Love.

That doesn’t make their Hate acceptable.3  I’m not giving anybody a free pass.  But, if we can learn to understand4 it, we might learn how to combat it.

Unfortunately, knowledge is not always truth.5 Not big “T” Truth.

Love…big “L” Love…that’s  Truth.

Something undeniable.

Maybe folks can at least learn that.

All us creatures, big and small.

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  1. or blessed []
  2. And that always comes with a big “H.” []
  3. nor our own for that matter. []
  4. with a big “U” []
  5. Think of a living, breathing WikiPedia. []

Little Big Man

“He big man! Let me talk to you for a minute…”

I kept walking.

For two reasons: 1) I knew it must be a panhandler;1 and 2) I didn’t realize he was talking to me.

I just don’t think of myself as a “big man.”

Granted, most folks would say I’m tall.  According to surveys, at 6′-3″, I am taller than 97% of other men. I realize I am generally the tallest man in any given room2 but that figure really surprises me.

Still I’m guessing the percentage of  people who would refer to me as “big” is pretty small.

Because I don’t have a lot of body mass.  To me, that’s what makes a man big.

I have big hands, nose, feet, ears, etc., sure; but everything that connects them is pretty slim. I’ve always been slim, sometimes downright skinny.   I was around 150-160 lbs at 6′-3″ in my teens and early 20’s. Those are the years you really become who you are, so maybe that’s the way I will always see myself.

Even though I’m right around 200 lbs3 these days, that’s not all that much when stretched out to 75 inches.

Yet, to at least one homeless guy, I’m big.

The reason I write about all this is because it has me thinking about perception and how it effects almost everything in life.  There is very little black and white to our existence.  It’s all what kind of light you see it in.

It’s a struggle the Attorney and I are having right now.

Lately my time with him has been very limited because of having to ramp up my care for Granny.  I actually have not laid eyes on him since Labor Day weekend.4

To him, he’s not getting what he needs.  To me, Granny is getting what she needs.

A big deal?  Or a small sacrifice?

Depends on which one of us you ask.

Don’t get me wrong.  I understand where the Attorney is coming from, but I also know what I have to do.

I once heard a drag queen say lighting is everything.

As long as I remember that, I won’t lose perspective on his perspective.

I may not be big, but I hate feeling small.

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  1. Don’t just beg for money. At least try to earn it in some way.  Play an instrument. Clean a windshield.  Something. []
  2. unless the Attorney, who is 6′-5″, is there. []
  3. the most mass I have ever had in my life []
  4. Very briefly at that. []

Thinking Thanks

It’s been more than two months since my last post.

In the last several weeks I have received numerous e-mails of concern, support, inquiry, and general contact.  I have to say that I am overwhelmed by the number of people who give a shit about my well-being, and even more amazed by the number who have stuck with the blog in my absence.

I now understand why the word “thanks” has similar roots as the word “think.”  It’s because we express thanks for one’s thoughtfulness.

In honor of the Thanksgiving holiday, I thought this is the perfect time to express my Thanks and gratitude to all of you for writing, continuing to visit the blog, and keeping me, Granny, and The Attorney in your thoughts, prayers, and RSS  feeds and Google readers.

I wish I had some monumental epic story to excuse the cobwebs and chirping crickets that seem to have taken over here West of Mayberry, but the truth is that sometimes life’s currents overtake you and sweep you under.1  You go missing for a bit,  but if you keep your wits, hold your breath, and stay calm, usually you’ll pop back up again…although a few yards further down the river.

So, here I am, popping up a little further down the river, a bit water-logged and a touch worn-out, but ultimately none the worse for wear.

I’ve never been one to burden others with my woes and sorrows.  And I’m not going to start now.  Folks have enough of their own without having to take my on, too.  But I do want to let you all know that despite some rough patches and stress, I’m okay.

I’m okay. Granny is okay.  The Attorney is okay.  We’re not perfect, but we’re okay.

Even if we weren’t, I would have made it back here eventually.  If for no reason other than to close the shutters and sweep up for one last time.  I would never just cut out without saying thank you and goodbye.

But, I’m not saying goodbye.  Just thank you.

For all you have given me.

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  1. Ya’ll know my connection to water. []

St. Luke’s Shepherds vs St. Matthew’s Kings

Despite what you think from the title of this post, this isn’t about high-school football play-offs.

So, don’t worry.

It’s about the Bible.

So, now worry. 🙂

It’s a bit after midnight here, west of Mayberry.  Officially Christmas Day.

I just said goodnight to Granny and turned off the lights in her room.  After getting her settled in, I sat next to her on top of the covers.  We propped ourselves against the headboard and watched TV for a while.

She got tired but wanted to hear the story of the nativity before she fell asleep.  As you all know, I’m not the most religious person in the world, but I’d have to be a downright heathen to refuse to do that.  So, I grabbed Granny’s Bible off the night table and read from the second chapter of the Luke.

No room at the inn.  Shepherds and their flocks and all.  But no Wise Men.  No kings.

At first I thought maybe I was reading from one of those contemporary editions or something.  But when I looked at spine, it said “King James.”  I asked Granny about it and she told me, “That’s Matthew.”

Then she told me she prefers Luke, which is why I guess that’s what she asked me to read.  I asked her why she preferred Luke since it was essentially the same story.

“Luke is more for regular folk.  Matthew is too…too…”

She searched for the right word, then finally finished her thought with, “too Republican.”

We both chuckled about that and I made a mental note to tell the Attorney, who has been known to have Republican tendencies.

Apparently there are differences in the facts of the Christmas story, depending on who told it.  Luke talks about the manger and shepherds.  Matthew talks about the kings.  The shepherds heard from an angel.  The Wise Men followed a star.

Isn’t it kinda ironic that the Gospels are not necessarily the gospel?

So, I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise that even now, 2000 or so years later, that Christmas is a different thing to different people.  But whether your Christmas includes shepherds…or not.  Kings…or not…Jesus, Santa, Angels, Rudolph, presents, trees, or stars…or not, we’re all celebrating the same thing.

The easy answer is “the birth of Christ.”  But the bigger answer is “goodness.”

You may not believe a baby was born in a manger to a virgin. Or, if you do, you may not believe that babe is the Messiah.  But, if you celebrate Christmas at all, surely you can believe in the goodness that the story represents.

And, if you don’t celebrate, surely you can believe in goodness nonetheless.

It’s all mankind truly has to give.

Goodness: It’s no better, nor worse, from shepherds than from kings.

Happy Holidays, dear friends and readers.

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